


Detective Oneshot Collection

by thebrandywine



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Nightmares, Prevented Gun Violence, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:53:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24366112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrandywine/pseuds/thebrandywine
Summary: A collection of oneshots about different Detectives from The Wayhaven Chronicles.Will tag as I go!
Relationships: Detective/Adam du Mortain, Detective/Mason (The Wayhaven Chronicles), Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	1. bloodlust

**Author's Note:**

> So... thoughts on Detective blood counteracting DMB?
> 
> Random baddie fight set sometime after Book 2.

Mason jolts back to awareness. Every nerve ending, every cell, is screaming in pain. DMB courses through him and he can feel himself almost falling into unconsciousness again before a hand grabs his jaw. It’s a firm grip, if hurried, and it flexes to pry his mouth open. He attempts to open his eyes, to bat the hand away, but he’s kitten weak. There’s too much sound beating against his oversensitive eardrums and his heart shudders in his chest, barely beating. Once his mouth is wrestled open, something warm is shoved against his fangs and—

He bites down automatically, blood filling his mouth. When he swallows, it hits him like a bolt of electricity. He growls and gains enough control over his arms to reach up and dig his claws into the arm he’s biting into, holding it desperately. It’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, and it slides down his throat easily as he drinks deeper and deeper. The more he drinks, the more he comes back to himself, the poison’s hold over his body getting flushed out with the new blood. His eyelids flutter as he breathes in a familiar scent, mouth latched firmly against the flesh of whoever’s he feeding off of.

_Bang!_

He winces as a gun goes off just over his head. The noise rattles something loose in mind and the rest of the noise around him starts to filter in. There’s yelling, snarling, the sound of fighting. One hand releases its grip on his prey and plants itself firmly against the rocky soil underneath him. He struggles to sit up, muscles not working the way they’re supposed to.

“—son?” someone yells from a long, long way away.

“He’ll be fine!” someone calls back from right above him. There’s a boom in the distance and the gun goes off twice in quick succession.

He swallows again, feeling power fill him. He’s never felt like this before. He feels _incredible_. He bites deeper, relishing in the rush of blood before his mind registers a pained noise. His eyes snap open, hazy with fatigue and bliss. He tries desperately to focus them but lights are flashing and figures are blurring past and— oh, shit, is that a fire? Someone leans into his field of vision as he takes another drink and then it clicks in his brain. He rips his mouth away from the Detective’s arm, the action taking more willpower than he’d like to admit. 

The Detective barely even grimaces, shooting him a quick glance. “Mason, stay down!”

“The hell’s—” the vampire slurs, trying to scramble up. The Detective rips one sleeve off of their shirt and quickly wraps it around their bleeding forearm, tightening the knot with their teeth. “Did I—?”

“I said stay down!” The Detective barks. They cast a look over his shoulder from their position huddled on the forest floor, raising their gun and firing smoothly at something behind him. With that last shot, everything falls silent.

“Is everyone alright?” Adam pants from further off. Mason’s mind reels when he turns his head too quickly. The Detective’s hand darts out to steady him.

“I’m alright,” Nate calls, his voice getting louder as he walks closer.

“Same here!” Felix hollers. He appears suddenly and looks down at Mason, worried. “You okay, man?”

Mason just blinks up at him. “I…”

“Give him a minute,” the Detective says around a laugh. “Going from poisoned to superpowered probably rattled his brain a bit.”

Nate leans over them as he arrives, looking Mason over before nodding once.

Mason runs one hand over his face, the elbow holding him upright buckling. He hits the ground softly, but a hand still catches the back of his head before he bangs it on anything. His wobbly gaze finds the Detective’s face again, looking pale. Something heavy settles in his gut, something not unlike guilt.

“Y’okay?” he asks, the words tumbling past his lips before he can grab them back.

The Detective grins. “I’m fine, Mason. Why don’t you close your eyes for a minute?”

His lip lifts in a sneer automatically but he closes his eyes anyway, falling asleep in a matter of seconds, his head cushioned by a warm hand. One gentle thumb sweeps over his temple as he drifts into a soft and welcoming darkness.


	2. nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Detectives were harmed in the making of this oneshot.

Nate is dreaming. He knows that he is. Memories and random glances of people and places flash past his eyes, snippets coming together and pulling apart in a confusing array of noise and color. He weaves in and out of them, never staying for long and forgetting what he’s just seen as soon as he looks away. With one final blizzard of sensation, he blinks his eyes open to a vast darkness.

“Hello?” he calls. His voice echoes unendingly, finding nothing in the void to bounce itself off of.

“Nate?” a familiar voice asks. He smiles and turns.

“Detective,” he says. He falters when his gaze meets theirs, stumbling. A gasp of horror sticks itself in his chest.

They stand before him, feet bloody and torn up. Blood gushes from a gaping hole in their neck as they sway closer to him. A fire roars in his veins as he watches the red liquid flow down their skin, staining the neck of their shirt. His fangs ache, pressing against the inside of his lips.

“Nate,” they repeat, their voice only a breath. “Help me.”

They stumble and he reaches out to catch them on instinct. His fingers lock like vices around their arms, too tight, bruising. He’s barely aware of it, something wild coming over him. He tilts his head very slowly.

“What’re you doin’...” the Detective slurs. They tug weakly against his grip.

“I can help,” he says, but the voice isn’t his. It’s _Murphy’s_.

Their head lolls back as they look up at him, eyes hazy with pain and blood loss but so trusting. _Easy prey_ , something whispers in his mind. Wooden boards creak below his feet when he shifts forward, mouth slowly stretching into a feral grin. His mind is screaming something at him, begging and pleading, but he can only focus on the smell.

“Nate,” the Detective says again. They’re tugging more insistently now, even as their struggling grows weaker. He can see his too-white teeth reflected in their widening eyes. “Lemme go, I—”

“This won’t hurt,” he soothes. “It’ll be just like going to sleep.”

He sinks his fangs into their neck. They scream, a high, ragged sound. It beats against his eardrums and there’s a moment’s hesitation when he’s almost pulled back to awareness. When blood rushes into his mouth, all higher thought leaves him. His eyes widen with an animal hunger, releasing one of the Detective’s arms to reach up and yank their head aside, granting him further access to their neck. Power floods his veins, his teeth slicing further into the flesh of his victim. Distantly, he can feel their struggling come to a halt. The haze in his mind only lifts once he realizes that his mouth is empty. He furrows his brow, pulling harder against the gaping wound, but no more blood flows. When he pulls back, the Detective hangs like a marionette from his grip.

  
  
  
  
  
  


He jolts awake, gasping and clawing at his own mouth, desperate to rid it of the taste of the Detective’s blood. Without even thinking he stumbles out of bed, senses pinpointing their heartbeat and racing in that direction.

When he bursts into the kitchen, they’re standing in the early morning light, quietly humming as they mix a spoonful of sugar into their coffee. The sun slowly climbs the sky, casting their figure in stark relief against the fading darkness of the room. He rushes over to them in all of one moment, infinitely gentle hands reaching out to cradle them to his chest. He slouches, burying one face into their neck even as part of him shudders at how close his teeth are to their skin. He has to hear their heartbeat. He has to feel it, he has to _know_ —

One hand reaches back to rest gently on his shoulder. The Detective twists, trying to see his face, but he buries it deeper against the collar of their shirt. His forehead brushes unblemished skin and he gives a shuddering sigh of relief.

“Nate,” they say, probably not for the first time if their worried tone is anything to go by. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

He nods soundlessly, a jerky motion.

The Detective pauses, their hand warm and soothing through his shirt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

His breath shivers out of him. “It— I had a nightmare.” His voice sounds small and far away.

“Okay,” they say softly. They pull slightly against his hold and he darts back immediately, feeling his own crushing grip from the dream haunting his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His gaze follows them as they turn, concern radiating from them. “I shouldn’t have done that without asking.”

“Nate, you never have to ask.” They set down their mug and hold out one hand in his direction. “Let me help you.”

_I can help you_ , he remembers saying. He chokes down a sob, trying to fix a smile on his face to brush this whole thing off but not quite remembering how. “It’s alright,” he eventually forces out.

“Do you trust me?” they ask.

They hold his gaze, hand still beckoning for him. The sun is rising more confidently now, casting the kitchen in a golden light. Lit from behind, the Detective looks ethereal, immortal, as if nothing could ever harm them.

“Yes,” he whispers. When their arms finally close around him, his eyes fall shut and he sinks into their embrace. Their heartbeat surrounds him as the world outside of the kitchen begins to wake up, ready to face the day.


	3. the hold up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll remember that one episode of Criminal Minds? It's basically that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me. I am a simple American, unaware of British gun laws and occasionally obsessed with police procedurals.

“I’m just saying that he could have been more specific than just ‘the corner shop’!” Felix grumbles. “I know it’s a small town but there’s more than a few stores.”

Nate shakes his head in exasperation but chuckles.

“Kid hates his job. He doesn’t care,” Mason grumbles.

The three of them amble slowly through the streets of Wayhaven, making their way toward the shop that the Detective had told Douglas they were popping into about ten minutes ago. The streets are quiet, most everyone probably inside working as the early afternoon sun begins its descent from the zenith. 

“I’m just going to call them,” Felix announces loudly. He whips out his phone and presses number five on his speed dial.

Mason lights another cigarette and rolls his eyes. “Can’t go five minutes without talking?”

Felix sticks out his tongue. “Like you would know anything about the art of conversation.”

Mason sneers.

“It’s a nice day,” Nate says mildly. “The Detective had the right idea, stepping out for lunch.”

Felix pulls his phone away from his ear, frowning. “That’s weird. They didn’t pick up.”

“Whatever will you do now,” Mason intones. 

Felix opens his mouth to say something but is cut off as a squad car whips around the corner. The tires on the passenger’s side almost lift off the road from the speed before the car settles and it shoots off in the direction of the corner shop, lights flashing without the sirens. As it passes them, they’re able to see Tina barking something into her radio. Her knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

“Uh,” Felix says, drawing it out.

Mason exhales heavily. “Why do I get the feeling that the Detective has something to do with this?”

“I’m sure that Officer Poname has everything under control,” Nate responds. He glances uncertainly after the car. 

When an ambulance turns onto the same road and follows the squad car, they exchange glances before darting after it. They stick to a human speed despite Mason’s complaints, but when they finally get to their destination, Tina holds one hand out to stop them.

“I’m sorry, boys, but you can’t go any further,” she says. She’s biting her lip, a nervous habit. “We’ve got a situation in the shop but the Detective is handling it.”

“What kind of situation, Officer?” Nate asks, brow creased in concern. Felix tries to lean around her to see into the store but she steps into his line of sight.

Mason curses suddenly and stiffens, almost snapping his cigarette in half. “Does that kid have a gun?”

“Wait, what!” Felix cries.

They crowd up to the wooden barricade Tina’s erected to peer into the tiny store. The Detective stands in the middle of the shop, facing a young boy whose back is to them. He’s trembling, as if overcome with emotion, arms posed stiffly in front of him as he clutches the weapon. The Detective’s hands are empty, held loosely by their head. The three vampires lean a bit closer, stretching their senses to try and hear what’s being said in the shop.

“— and no one listens!” the kid shouts. He sounds like he’s holding back tears.

“ _ I’m _ listening,” the Detective says. Their voice is soft and their posture is open.

“He’s lyin’,” the man at the counter sneers. “And he ain’t man enough to shoot.”

“Ralph, shut up,” the Detective barks. They don’t take their eyes off of the boy. “Jacob, I swear to you that I’m listening.”

“We can’t just stand here,” Felix hisses. He tries to move forward but Nate grabs the back of his jacket. Mason whips out his phone and sends a text to Adam.

Inside, the kid shivers, sniffles. When he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “All he does is beat us since mum left. He don’t care about us no more so—”

Jacob hefts the gun higher, aiming at his father. The Detective swiftly steps between them.

“Get out of my way,” Jacob pleads. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I know,” the Detective says. “I know that because you’re a  _ good kid _ , Jake. You’re smart and you’re kind and you deserve better than going to jail for homicide.”

Jacob hesitates, his shoulders heaving. “Doesn’t matter. Livin’ through hell either way.”

“You have my word that you won’t go back to that house. None of you.” The Detective scans the boy before slowly lowering their arms. One hand reaches out. “But you have to give me the gun first.”

There’s a long moment where nothing happens. Tina prowls closer to the front door of the shop, carefully staying out of view of the windows. The Detective reaches out very slowly, glacially, before gently resting their hand on the gun. They look up at Jacob for confirmation and when he nods, they tug the gun out of his grip.

“Officer Poname’s going to come in and put you in the back of her car, alright?” The Detective asks. “I’m going to take care of everything else.”

Jacob nods absently, swaying on his feet in the aftermath of adrenaline. Tina opens the door, bells chiming softly, as the Detective tucks Jacob’s gun into their waistband at the small of their back.

“You ready, Jake?” Tina asks. The boy looks up at her, eyes brimming with tears, and nods.

  
  
  
  
  


When Adam finally gets to the station, he’s expecting chaos. Mason’s short message had implied nothing short of death and carnage, but the scene that greets him is anything but. As he steps through the doors, a wave of laughter greets him. Felix is sitting on the floor of the kitchen surrounded by children, all of them holding playing cards. Nate and a reluctant Douglas are pulling snack foods from the kitchen cabinets as Tina stirs lemonade powder into a large pitcher of water. Felix slaps a card down onto the messy pile on the floor and the children groan good-naturedly. Mason, lounging outside of the Detective’s office, watches over it all with a practiced look of boredom.

“Where’s the Detective?” Adam asks him, body as stiff as his voice.

“Interviewing the kid,” the other man answers. He fiddles with a cigarette but doesn’t light it. “Making some phone calls.”

The office door opens and they both step away from it as the Detective walks out with a pre-teen boy. They have one hand on the boy’s shoulder, and he looks up at them with a watery smile.

“Go play with your siblings, okay?” The Detective asks. “Keep the big guy in line for me.”

As the boy crosses the room to join in on the game, the Detective passes a weary hand over their face. Adam steps forward without thinking, barely noticing Mason’s smirk and he slinks away.

“Are you alright?” he asks. His voice is softer than he’d like it to be but it’s nothing compared to the worry that had been clawing at his chest during his desperate race to the station.

“Oh, I’m fine,” the Detective says dismissively, waving away his concern. “I just— I’m frustrated, sometimes, with how little I can do.”

“You saved lives today,” Adam says in disagreement. “That is an admirable takeaway for one afternoon.”

They sigh. “Those kids have been hurting for a long time. But I can only help when the proof’s right in front of me.” When they look up with a weary smile, Adam’s breath catches in his throat.

After a pause, Adam says, “Sometimes all that we can do is deal with the situation at hand.”

“Yeah,” they agree half-heartedly. Their mouth twists down at the corner. When Adam steps forward, carefully brushing their pinky fingers together, they smile up at him more genuinely.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Felix hollers, one hand cupped around his mouth. “Come watch me beat Natey at a game I’ve never played before!”

The Detective laughs softly and gives him a shy look before crossing the station, sitting down in a recently vacated spot as two of the children scoot over to make room. The kids crowd them immediately, loudly explaining the rules of the game, the Detective nodding along seriously. Just before the game starts back up, they cast a look back at him over their shoulder.

“Coming?” they ask.

He doesn’t hesitate before walking forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adam romancers are even gonna yearn in this fic, so shall it be


End file.
